#DreamOnDreamAway #DreamOnDreamer #OnceUponADream

March 22nd, 2014, 6:05 AM by Goddess

Dreamed one of our VPs got fired. I walked into their immaculately empty office to make sure of it. (I don’t quite get how said person got, let alone keeps, the job, but they are so far up Corporate’s butt that the dream was a surprise.)

Then I dreamed my boss suspended all meetings until further notice.

Both developments have worse odds than the 9.2 quintillion-to-1 of winning Warren Buffett’s March Madness bracket challenge.



There, I said it

March 21st, 2014, 7:31 AM by Goddess

I am tired of killing myself for my jobs.

I’m dodging my doctor, who has biopsy results for me.

After someone pissed me off beyond recognition yesterday, I shut down. Said individual later said they “cut deep.”

What they don’t know about me is I “shoot to kill.” Ergo, I zip it because I promise, what I end up saying or doing will be the last anyone sees or hears from me.

No poking the penguin today, people. Penguin will slap you with a fish.



Glamorous life

March 19th, 2014, 1:50 PM by Goddess

Another friend quit the Alligator Ranch today.

So now, in addition to the job posting I already have out there to find a Mini Me, I have two other openings folks have sent my way to, “Hey, you know everybody. Can you share the gospel?”

I’ve got my posting on the major sites but if you want to know about the others, you know where to reach me.

The thing is, if you’ve read even one or two of my blogs, tweets or Facebook musings, you probably would choose unemployment rather than replying to one of my job postings.

And that’s OK. We are a special brand of crazy. Think you can out-crazy us? We’d like to see you try!

(Seriously, please try. My inbox is as empty as my heart.)

Like right now I’m waiting on copy that was due three days ago. And a lunch date that never materialized and don’t get me started on why I never managed to leave the house today.

Anyway, regarding the deadline missed, I’d sooner put money on receiving a winged pony and a tooth fairy who pays in hundred-dollar bills.

Who WOULDN’T want to be a part of this glamorous life, I ask you?

Excuse me while I write an article on how the missing author was turned from a rooster to a hen today with just one shot. (Homage to Dolly Parton in “9 to 5.”) Now, wouldn’t YOU want to read that newsletter?

Apply within, folks. I can’t keep all this madness to myself …



Today

March 17th, 2014, 9:25 PM by Goddess

My broadcasting system failed me again tonight. And no I didn’t hit any wrong buttons. But hitting the RIGHT buttons repeatedly yielded zero results, and I had to go in a back way.

The very way I learned completely by accident on Friday. Which worked like a charm tonight as my desperate Plan B.

Go figure.

As I was struggling to launch the thing the traditional way, everyone said goodbye and frolicked out. “Hope you figure out how to fix it!”

I fixed it, all right.

And when I fixed it, my colleague was having broadcasting problems of his own.

Now I could have said, “Oh hey, good luck!” like everyone else did.

But that’s not me. Captain and ship and all that jazz.

I hung around and offered help. He tried what he knew. Then he said, OK, since you stayed and might have an idea.

I found the problem quickly.

In any event, even though I’m at about a 47 on the 1-to-10 anxiety scale, I was really glad that A) I didn’t need anybody to help me, and B) I could help someone else in an area that’s inadvertently become an expertise.

It’s an hour of my life I won’t get back, but it sure beat what else I had planned for that hour-ish. Jobs are all about people — that’s what you leave behind, and that’s what you take with you. So, if I measure by that, I’ll call it a good day.



School night

March 16th, 2014, 5:31 PM by Goddess

Two sleepless nights in a row. And now I have to log into my work PC to finish stuff that should have been done last week. And, I’m sure, I’ll have plenty of e-mails asking what I did to (or why I didn’t) fix the fuckup.

(It’s because a meltdown was imminent. I e-mailed my boss a suggested solution, contacted Customer Service and then drank a whole bottle of wine. All in the same half-hour.)

My anxiety is still Through the Roof, to put it mildly.

When you have your past and your present at the same lunch table, as I saw Friday, you remember things.

I’m not saying any situation was ideal, and I can’t say one has been more-ideal than another. Both had their perks and frustrations.

I miss my old boss’ “No Meetings” rule. I mean, he took me all over the country to meet with experts and certainly we met with plenty of writers and such at home. But other than the occasional strategy or damage control session, we barely saw each other. And we lived four doors down from each other.

It’s … different now. Lots of meetings. I feel like I know Everything There is to Know about internal stuff. I would love to be in on more external discussions, like I used to be, but at some point in the day work actually has to get done.

Either way, the work-to-play ratio is unhealthy at best.

But I don’t want to imply it’s *just* a job driving me mad. Mom, cars, health, people — stuff I just can’t mention here that’s making me swoon at the thought of dealing with it by whatever deadline does or does not accompany it.

I think what bugs me most about the fuckup at work is not that I did it (and that it could have been avoided … and that the gal who logged in from home to help me and talk me off the ledge won’t get any credit), but that it could cost us money — money we worked SO HARD to make.

And even if the damage is minimal (which I expect it will be, realistically), it means the trust I have worked SO HARD to garner from a VERY difficult person may be in jeopardy.

The anticipated tongue-clack/told-you-so moment will make me have a Linda Blair moment, I can feel it.

The good news is, each day is a clean slate. And there will always be more fuckups to make. All told, I went about two and a half years without a moment like this, so I’d say maybe I’ll get some sleep SOMETIME this week once it’s blown over.

Lord, guide my steps (and muzzle my mouth) till I get to that point …